


Killing game

by Drafter



Series: HxH Whump Stories [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Gore, Hisoka Is Not Messing Around, Killing Spiders Left And Right, Presumed Dead, Torture, Trail of Blood, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drafter/pseuds/Drafter
Summary: Hisoka never lied about how much he loved to play games. And right now, the Spiders were his favourite toys.
Series: HxH Whump Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966612
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Killing game

**Author's Note:**

> This short story is based on the latest chapters of HxH, where Hisoka swears to kill all members of the Phantom Troupe. Current setting is the Black Whale ship during the voyage to the Dark Continent.
> 
> Whumptober 2020, prompt 10: Trail of Blood

Machi knew what she was seeing was intended for her the minute she laid her eyes on it. She was standing in a walkway between decks 4 and 5 of the Black Whale ship, a dim staircase that was often deserted, looking down at her feet. Machi had stepped on something wet and sticky, too thick and dark-coloured to be just water from the cleaning crew. It was more than that. So she crouched. Dipped her fingertips. It smelled like fresh blood.

The lower decks were highly trafficked areas, but most people tended to use the elevators to move between floors. The only ones that used the stairwell were those who wanted to purposely avoid said high-trafficked areas. Like the Spiders. Or someone hiding away from them.

The blood on the floor formed more than a mere puddle. It continued on a crooked, sinuous path, creating a dark crimson trail that went on beyond the doors of the staircase, a trail Machi knew she was supposed to follow.

And so she did. Her steps were cautious and quiet, the wariness taking over her. Machi’s heart was pounding, not because she was afraid, but because Machi knew that was Hisoka’s work and that he was luring her, and her alone, to his playpen. Because he was toying with her. But most of all, because she wanted to kill him.

The track led Machi to another door, a discreet janitor room just a few steps away from the walkway. The doorknob was also smeared in red.

She twisted the handle. Opened the door. And gagged.

Shizuku was the only one in there, standing at the back of the small cubicle, right in front of the door. She was naked from the waist up, and her belly was ripped open, a laceration that went from side to side, so deep her insides were out. Her bowels were hanging like sausages from her stomach, dripping maroon dots on the ground; her pristine chest now tainted with all shades of red.

Machi recovered from the shock and walked toward her, her steps hasty this time. Shizuku’s both arms were wide opened, bound to the wall by dozens of small hooks that pierced her skin from elbow to shoulder, the flesh starting to stretch like a flexible piece of plastic. Another hook was clung to the nape of her neck, forcing Shizuku’s head to stay up, the skin also beginning to tear. 

“Shizuku… not you, shouldn’t have been you,” Machi murmured, words made solely of pain and sorrow.

And then a second shock wave hit her.

Much to of her surprise, Shizuku woke up, eyes wide in terror. She was still alive. She was alive when Hisoka slit her belly, alive when he gutted her, when he hanged her to the walls. He left her there to die. To die in front of Machi, that sick bastard!

Machi hurried to the hooks, trying to remove them from Shizuku’s limbs and release her from her agony. Her agile hands had gotten the first three when Shizuku asked her to stop.

Her voice was hoarse, the tone so low Machi could barely discern her words. But out of respect, she complied, and followed her eyes when they looked down to her own opened stomach.

Right there, placed neatly between the guts and organs and tissues, was a playing card. Machi pulled it gently, bit by bit, and cleaned the blood from it. A wicked joker smiled at her.

“Kill… him…” Shizuku asked.

Machi gulped. The anger became hate. The hate became wrath.

And right there, standing before her dying friend, Machi renewed her vows.

She _would_ kill him. She didn’t care how, when or what it would take, but she would.

Even at the cost of her own life.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, not sorry? =x


End file.
